Chapter 3

That night, Mom and Dad reviewed the surveillance footage from every corner of the house.

Chloe's entire self-orchestrated scheme played out clearly on the screen, leaving nowhere to hide.

The evidence was undeniable.

Facing their questions, Chloe rubbed her red, tear-stained eyes, her voice full of grievance.

"I'm so sorry.I really didn't mean to frame her."

"I was just so scared. What if she shows up and you just replace me?"

Caleb was beside her in an instant. "You heard her! Chloe's just insecure!"

"She's lived here for over a decade. Someone suddenly comes back to take everything away from her... isn't it normal for her to be scared?"

"She didn't mean any harm, so stop being so aggressive!"

As he spoke, he seemed to remember something, his brow furrowing tightly, his voice now filled with disgust.

"But Aria, I think there's something seriously wrong with her head, isn't there?"

"Who jumps from the second floor just because someone says something?"

Mom and Dad shot him a harsh glare, but they still took his words into consideration.

The next day, they pulled some strings and brought in a top psychologist.

To everyone's surprise, I was incredibly cooperative with the doctor's questions.

"Aria, can you tell me how you got these scars?"

I thought carefully for a moment, then answered softly. "I did them to myself."

A flicker of surprise crossed Dr. Miller's face. He pressed on, "And why would you hurt yourself?"

My answer was utterly natural. "Because that way, before someone gets angry, I've already punished myself. When they see I'm sorry, they might calm down and won't hit me anymore."

I still remembered that whenever I made a mistake, as long as I punished myself before those people got angry, I'd always end up with fewer injuries, fewer beatings.

Dr. Miller stared at me, looking like he wanted to say more but held back.

After a long pause, he tried to guide me. "But have you ever thought that hurting yourself like this doesn't solve the problem? It only hurts those who truly love you."

I blinked, asking curiously, "What is love?"

"Is it like those traffickers from before, breaking my legs but saying it was for my own good, saying it would let me live by begging for pity and charity?"

"Or is it like my parents now...?"

"One second they're hugging me, crying and swearing they'd fight for me, but the next, even after seeing Chloe framing me on the surveillance footage, they just... let it slide? Instead, they thought I was the problem and brought in a therapist for me?"

I leaned closer to him, speaking each word distinctly.

"Dr. Miller, I used to have many friends who loved me. We got beaten together, starved together, and we promised each other we'd escape..."

"But now..."

I paused, then continued, "The people who loved me... they're all dead."

The pen in Dr. Miller's hand froze mid-air, his face instantly turning ashen.

Dr. Miller relayed every word I said, verbatim, to my parents.

His final diagnosis was.

I had severe psychological trauma.

All my compliance, and the way I hurt myself preemptively when feeling threatened, were self-preservation mechanisms forced upon me to survive in such a terrible environment.

After Dr. Miller left, Mom and Dad stayed in their room all day.

Until Caleb kicked open their bedroom door.